


Fortune Favors the Bold

by Minutia_R



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 02:15:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6733909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minutia_R/pseuds/Minutia_R
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tuuri and Reynir are stuck in quarantine without so much as a deck of playing cards.  Tuuri has an idea for how to pass the time, but Reynir might need a little more convincing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fortune Favors the Bold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kiraly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraly/gifts).



“You know,” says Tuuri, “that looked like a nasty cut Emil’s got. It’s probably going to take Mikkel a while to clean it and stitch it up and disinfect everything. In the meantime, we’re stuck here in the cab, and I’m pretty sure we left the playing cards in the office.”

Reynir frowns and fiddles with the end of his braid. “Tuuri, I really don’t think we should sneak out of quarantine.”

“That’s not what I meant--” Tuuri starts to say. Then she sees how pale Reynir’s gone--his freckles and the lines where his breath mask presses into his face stand out in stark relief--and how tense his fingers are in his hair, like he’s holding fast to a lifeline. “Hey. The idea of getting infected really freaks you out, doesn’t it?”

“Doesn’t it scare you?” Reynir shakes his head. “What am I saying, you’re not immune either but you volunteered for a mission to the Silent World, you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

Tuuri bursts out laughing. She can’t help it. She shouldn’t laugh at him, it was a sweet thing to say, but _really._

“Don’t let Sigrun hear you say that.”

“Why not? It’s not like she’d understand what I’m saying.”

“You don’t have to be so literal--oh. That was a joke, wasn’t it?” It wasn’t much of a joke, but the look on Reynir’s face--wide-eyed and hopeful, like the joke was a flower he picked just for her and he really wants her to like it--is adorable. Tuuri wants to kiss it. That’s not happening with the breath masks on, though, so clearly she’s got some more talking to do. “You’ve never actually met anyone who got infected with the rash illness, have you?”

“Of course not!” Reynir says, shocked. “There’s never been a case in Iceland. We--”

“You’ve been blessed by the gods. I know. Well, either our gods aren’t as strong as yours, or they show they care about us in different ways … there was an island I visited once, when I was really little. I don’t really remember it. There was, like, gingerbread cake? A couple of years later, it was gone. The entire population had been wiped out by an outbreak.”

“Wasn’t anyone there immune?”

“Most of them were. The ones who weren’t killed them.”

“Oh,” says Reynir.

“Of course it scares me. I’m not stupid,” says Tuuri. “But it’s never been just a story to me, you know? You learn to put it out of your mind and get on with your life, or you end up like--like Onni.”

“Onni’s brave, too, though,” says Reynir. “That one time we were attacked by spirits--I don’t really understand what happened, but it was really scary, and Onni came to help, even though he didn’t have to.”

Tuuri’s memories of that time in Kastellet are fuzzy, but she remembers enough to know that Reynir’s warnings about hostile spirits turned out to be accurate. Maybe it’s true when he says he’s a mage, even if Tuuri doesn’t know how you can be a mage for twenty years and never do _anything_. Probably it’s different for foreign mages. She should ask Onni next time they talk. Reynir’s right about one thing, anyway: she shouldn’t be so hard on Onni.

“Yeah, even Onni can be brave when he decides to be. He went from Keuruu to Mora _all by himself_ ,” Tuuri says with a surge of pride in her naturally timid big brother. “The thing is--you’ve got to understand the difference between reasonable caution and letting your fear control you. I’d never suggest sneaking out of quarantine. That door is sealed and it’s gonna stay that way until Mikkel says it’s safe. So it doesn’t really matter--” Tuuri reaches up behind her head, and Reynir’s gaze is arrested. His hands make a short, abortive movement like he’s going to stop her, but in the end he just watches, fascinated, as she undoes the catch on the mask and lets it dangle uselessly from her hand. “--if I do this.”

Her bare face is a challenge to him, and they both know it. “Your turn,” she says.

He hesitates for another second. His hands are trembling when he undoes his mask, but the mouth that appears from behind it is grinning, triumphant, brilliant--and Tuuri rises up on her tiptoes and kisses it.

His eyes fly wide open, and he makes a soft noise of surprise against her mouth, but the next second his hands have found her waist and he’s licking softly at her lips, a gentle invitation to take the kiss further. Tuuri opens her mouth against his and licks back, braces herself with her hands on his shoulders, presses their bodies closer.

He’s really pretty good at this. Cute and talented--Tuuri would ask herself how she got so lucky, except that she’s always believed that you make your own luck in this world.

It’s just too bad that Mikkel’s going to open that door any minute now. Emil can be such a big baby sometimes, but it wasn’t really anything more than a scratch. Probably didn’t even need stitches.

**Author's Note:**

> My Finnish consultant informs me that Tuuri's name means "lucky." So the title is a terrible pun, sorry. (Not sorry.)


End file.
